The Gadgetmaker and the Elf, Serv'd Up
by lilac-kat
Summary: WRITTEN FOR SA CONTEST WINNER #3: Agent Oona tries to figure out who - or what - is doing all of her Scientist chores behind her back, and why; meanwhile, Agent Oksana is selected to compete in Odd Squad's annual high-stakes cooking competition. (Featured in an episodic layout. Story does not contain shipping/OLP. Does contain Oona's nerdiness and Oksana's sarcasm.)
1. GE: Part 1

**A/N Hello again, readers! And I'm back, this time with the first installment of our second Contest-winning fanfic, brought to you by site user 22 Dr. Pickle. As you can see, this'll be laid out much like an actual episode, with two stories and roughly three parts per story, and both Pickle and I are super excited about the math lessons! Yay! (*dies of college stress on inside*)**

 **Oh and while I'm here, I'm gonna throw in a little shoutout to one of my author friends, Agent0002. You may recognize her from the _Odd Squad_ fanfic she's currently writing, "Full Circle". If you haven't been reading this already, I strongly urge you to go check it out!  Yours truly is actually the beta-reader for the story, which means I get to look over every chapter she writes before it's published; even cooler, she's basing the entire thing off of my very own "Ships Ahoy"! So you guys'll recognize a lot of the same themes in there. So PLEASE go read it! She would love the support!**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own _Odd Squad_. Just the stories I write about it.**

 **SECOND DISCLAIMER: The story may be written by me, but it is the brainchild of Dr. Pickle 22, who has complete final say in what is published.**

 **Well, what are you waiting for? Happy Reading! :D**

* * *

 _THE GADGETMAKER AND THE ELF_

* * *

Part 1

It was evening on July 6, 2016, the day after Lab Con.

Oscar had only packed his things and been gone a little over twenty-four hours.

But to Oona, the Lab already seemed like a different place.

And not only because she had added her first Odd Squad Scientist shoelace next to Oscar's on the bulletin board to make this place officially hers. It seemed... _emptier_ somehow.

"I mean, that's not at all because it lost its creator and owner of who-knows-how-many years. Not at all, hehe!" she said aloud to herself, spinning listlessly on the swivel chair in the middle of the empty Lab. "Or that my boss and mentor moved on to greater things and trusted me enough to be in charge of it. Not that either, for sure!" She attempted a chuckle at her own humor, but it fell flat and morphed into a sigh.

Oona glanced at her watch. "Nearly nine o'clock. Night Shift'll be here soon, I should probably leave while I can." Then her gaze wandered up to the pile of unfinished gadgets she'd left on the table. "But I can't just leave a job undone! Oscar would be disappointed in me if I did...wouldn't he…?"

Of course, she knew all too well it was that kind of thinking that could get a Day Shift agent in trouble with Night Shift. She and Oscar had found that out the hard way when they finally came out of the bunker at what just so happened to be the midnight hour. Still, hadn't Olympia and Otis managed to solve a case during Night Shift once? And Gadget Repair and/or Tuneup Day _had_ been Oscar's favorite. How could she let him down by not finishing the job for him?

On the other hand, it was getting harder to suppress her tired yawns...

"Maybe if I count how many gadgets I've done so far and compare that to how many I have left to do," she reasoned, "that'll help me decide." Getting up from her swivel chair, the ten-year-old made her way over to the table and quickly sorted out the pile of unfinished gadgets into countable groups, and soon had them all counted out. "...fifty, fifty-five, sixty! I still have sixty gadgets left to finish fixing before tomorrow. And how many have I fixed so far today…?" She reached over to press a button on the wall, and a section of paneling slid away to reveal an array of tiny green storage lockers, most of which were filled with gadgets. "Okay, so if each row has ten gadgets, and there are nine rows filled, then that's nine groups of ten...ninety! I finished fixing ninety gadgets today. Although," she mused, noticing for the first time that the lockers were numbered, "I guess I could've just looked for the last number that had a gadget in it...oh well."

Glancing back and forth between the storage lockers and the pile on the table, Oona pursed her lips as she thought over what to do next. "Ninety is definitely more than sixty...but how much more?" She did some quick mental math. "Thirty more...but still, what does that mean? Sixty and ninety by themselves don't tell me how much work I have and haven't done today. I need another way of analyzing this information."

"Soooooo," Oona began as her tablet unfolded out of her watch, "what I'm trying to find is the _proportion_ of gadgets I have already fixed today—" as she said this the word PROPORTION materialized at the top of her screen "—and the proportion of gadgets I _haven't_ fixed yet. And what do I know? I know that there are ninety finished gadgets—" a 90 appeared underneath PROPORTION on the left "—sixty unfinished gadgets—" a 60 appeared next to the 90, in the middle "—and one hundred and fifty gadgets total—" a 150 appeared next to the 60, on the right "—that I got from Gadget Repair and/or Tuneup Day. I _also_ know," she continued as the numbers cleared from the screen, "that there are three ways I can write a proportion, by using either ratios—" a colon popped up where the 90 had been "—or fractions—" a horizontal bar popped up where the 60 had been "—or percents—" a percent sign popped up where the 150 had been.

Oona scrutinized the three signs, pursing her lips in contemplation. "So which one would show me how much work I've done today?" she thought aloud, scratching her head in puzzlement. Eventually she shrugged and grinned her trademark Oona grin. "Eh, I'll just try 'em all and see what works! First let's do the ratios..."

After punching a few buttons, the following materialized:

90 : 150

60 : 150

"Ugh, that didn't work!" Oona groaned. "This just shows me what I already know! Let's try fractions next." She punched a few more buttons, and the following materialized:

90  
150

60  
150

"But this still won't tell me anything different yet, not until I make the fraction simpler," she reasoned. "I can start by getting rid of the zeros, so I'm only left with nine, six, and fifteen. And I think they can be divided into smaller groups, too..." After running a quick mental guess-and-check, Oona snapped her fingers and smiled. "Three does! Three groups of six is two, three groups of nine is three, and three groups of fifteen is five! So now my fractions should look like this..."

3  
5

2  
5

"So that means I finished fixing three-fifths of all my gadgets, and I have only two-fifths left to fix!" Then Oona paused, and went back to scratching her head again. "But two and five are kinda small numbers. Maybe I should try the last one, percents, just to be safe.

"Now, since percents only work between 1 and 100, I first have to put these two fractions into _hundredths_ instead of fifths. But an easy way to do that is to put them into _tenths_ first, and then just add on zeroes. And I know that two groups of five—" she held out both her hands and counted all the fingers "—is ten! So I can double each number, then if I add a zero..." she tapped both of the fractions twice and drew four little circles, so that they looked like this:

60  
100

40  
100

"There! And now to change that into a percent, I only need the top numbers, because I know that the percent sign already means 'out of one hundred'." She tapped the fractions again, and they morphed into this:

60%

40%

"So that means," Oona concluded, "If I've already done 60% of my work, I only have 40% left to do! Ta-da!"

Folding the tablet back into her watch, Oona looked up triumphantly, half expecting Oscar or Ms. O or _somebody_ to commend her on a math-terful job figuring it out for herself. But of course there was no one, and she sighed at the slight disappointment of realizing that she had been lecturing to nothing but thin air.

And that's when the reality sunk in. "Forty percent..." Oona realized, staggering backward into her swivel chair. "I _guess_ that's more than half of my work done, but...that's still so many gadgets I have to fix! And if I need to get most of them done before tomorrow..." She reluctantly turned her gaze back to the pile of gadgets and heaved a sigh, which quickly became a loud yawn. "Never mind," she told herself, forcibly blinking the bleariness from her eyes. "Night Shift doesn't really use the Lab, anyhow. I'll just have to pull my first all-nighter. Heh, what could go wrong?"

But about five gadgets in, lulled by the muted noise of the Night Shift agents filing into headquarters for work, the stress of her first day as Lab Director began to rapidly take its toll on the exhausted girl. _I'll just lay my head down on the table for a bit_ , she thought drowsily, _only for a couple minutes._ And before she knew it, Oona had nodded off into a deep sleep.

* * *

Meanwhile, back in the far corner of the Lab, something moved in the shadows.

Having been the sole, unknown listener to Oona's entire one-sided lecture from before, it now hopped up to perch on the tabletop by the new Lab Director's arm. Completely unnoticed by the hypnotic agents on Night Shift, it surveyed the remaining pile of 25 gadgets. Quietly but gleefully, it rolled up its sleeves, cracked its knuckles, and set to work.


	2. GE: Part 2

**A/N HAPPY 2ND BIRTHDAY TO ODD SQUAD! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D**

 **And also, by extension, Happy 1st Birthday to my mega-fanfic "Ship's Ahoy!" Sometimes I still can't believe that entire project's over...**

 **Anyhow, two years ago today was the world premiere of what has become my favorite fandom and officially the fandom I have devoted the most time and effort toward. Here's to another year of craziness with all you other wonderful Oddballs! ^_^**

Part 2

"...Oona...Oona...OONA!"

"HUHWHAT!" Ripped from her blissful sleep, Oona bolted upright and rubbed her eyes at the harsh glare of Day Shift's fluorescent lights. When she could see again, she gasped and scrambled out of her chair. "Howdy-doo, Ms. O!" she stammered, nervously glancing at the worktable behind her. "S-sorry the gadgets aren't all repaired yet, heh! Must've fallen asleep on the job —"

"What are you talking about?"

Oona trailed off at the interruption. "I'm sorry?"

Ms. O conspicuously leaned around Oona and eyed the table. "They all look finished to me. Not bad for your first day as Lab Director!"

Puzzled, Oona turned her full focus on the table for the first time that morning—and gasped. "Wha..? But I could swear I..." Sure enough, every single gadget left on the table was completely repaired and polished to gleaming.

"Anyhow, just wanted to congratulate you on a job well done," Ms. O continued, oblivious to Oona's bewilderment, "and let you know that I think Oscar made the right decision by hiring you as his successor. Although," she added, cocking her head in thought, "it'll be kinda weird if I ever have to yell, 'OOOOOOOOOOOOOOONAAAAAA!' to call you over. Really, it only ever worked with Oscar's name..."

Oona, who admittedly had jumped in startlement at Ms. O suddenly yelling her name, could barely manage more than a nod and a strained smile. "Yeah...great, thanks...hehe..."

As Ms. O walked off, Oona breathed a sigh of relief. _Thank goodness I wasn't holding a gadget or anything when she came over here, or I could've dropped it._

"Speaking of gadgets," she muttered aloud, turning her attention back to the gadget table, "what in odd's name…?" Hesitantly, Oona picked up the nearest fixed gadget, the Hand-Un-Colorinator, and examined it carefully. "The propellor has been rewound, the battery compartment refilled with coconut milk—even the blue handgrips are polished to gleaming!" She shook her head in disbelief and picked up the Plaid-Go-Bye-Bye-Machine, holding it up to her eye and squinting down the laser shaft. "And if I remember right, this gadget hasn't been fixed since before Agent Otto started writing his name on all the sign-out sheets. But it looks like even the polarity of the neutron flow's been reversed in the vapor of a Unicorn Tears soluble! And I _know_ I didn't do that." She paused. "Or did I...in my _sleep?_ "

There was only one way to find out. Setting down the gadgets, Oona dashed out of the lab and towards the South Control Room—then realized her mistake in directions and rerouted her steps toward the North Control Room.

Unfortunately, she rerouted her steps a little too quickly and collided head-on with Agent Ohio, sending them both staggering backward."Ow! Watch where you're going, lab assistant!" he barked, clutching his shoulder.

Though horrified with herself, Oona couldn't help but correct him. "Oh, um, actually I'm Lab Director now, since Oscar got…" she trailed off at Ohio's annoyed look. "Right, um, sorry about that, heh! I just need to talk to Owen, is that okay?"

Ohio thought for a moment, then glanced over his shoulder at the North Control Room. "Probably not," he shrugged, "but I won't stop you. Hey, hey Owen!" he turned to call with an added whistle for effect.

To Oona's dismay, when Owen turned around in his swivel seat, he looked even less happy than his Security partner. Which is to say, not at all. "Whaddya want?"

 _Oh no, I caught him on a bad day,_ she realized, slowly moving her way over to stand in front of the Security Head. _Still, I have to ask._ "Howdy-doo, Owen! Mind if I take a look at last night's security footage?"

Owen's slightly miffed expression didn't waver. "Oh, I see. Since when did _you_ think you were allowed to come and ask to see security footage, just because you're Oscar's assistant? Pssh, no scientist except Oscar has a high enough rank to do _that._ "

Oona blinked, taken aback. She had to admit, she wasn't expecting that. "I got promoted _just_ yesterday. And Oscar doesn't work here anymore, remember? He became President of Scientists right after you and Ohio took Obbs away."

"No he didn't," Owen retorted, staring her down with an authoritative air. "I never saw him pack up his things and leave here. So it didn't happen."

"Because you were busy with Obbs!"

"Hey, not my problem. I was only doing my job."

"I could show you the security footage to prove it!"

"Did I not _just say_ you can't ask for any security footage?"

Oona threw up her arms in exasperation. There were some agents she would never understand. _If he's not gonna listen to me, then I'm gonna have to distract and get him away from the controls somehow. But how…?_

Suddenly she recalled a story Oscar had once told her, about the time he became a detective with Agent Olive and figured out why she was being tube-blocked. Apparently Owen had been difficult with Olive, too, so she convinced him to go on break in order to access the footage herself. _But that same trick won't work again,_ Oona realized. _He only takes his breaks at five minutes and thirty seconds past every odd-numbered hour now, and it's only ten oh four. If only I could make him take his breaks on even-numbered hours…_

And that gave her an idea.

"Okay, okay, you're right," Oona told Owen, feigning resignation. "It's such a shame, though. After I was done, I was going to ask you to celebrate Opposite Number Day today with me."

Owen turned back to her, his brow furrowed in surprise. "What's Opposite Number Day?"

Oona made a big show of dropping her jaw. "You don't _know?!_ It's only the best holiday in the year! Well, except for National Mole Day, but never mind. It's the only day in the year when odd numbers turn even and even numbers turn odd! So, take a clock, for example. If it's ten o'clock right now, that's normally an even number, but _today_ , it becomes an odd number!"

The Head of Security cocked his head. "But how is that..." Suddenly his eyes widened as he got it, and he whipped up his wrist to check the time on his watch. "That means I need to take my break...now!" And with that, Owen hopped out of his chair, cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "GOIN' ON BREAK!" and was soon gone.

Satisfied with her quick thinking, Oona watched until he disappeared from sight, then immediately lunged for the console and scrolled through the different cameras. "Four hundred thirty cameras total, seven percent of which are in the Lab," she muttered, remembering the numbers from her training days, "so that makes 30.1 cameras—wait, except there's no such thing as a tenth of a camera, so then we round _down_ to just thirty cameras. Okey-dokey, then!" Pressing a button, Oona brought up all thirty camera displays on the two viewing screens, then toggled back to a few minutes before 9:00pm the night before and sat down to watch.

At first things were uneventful. Oona watched herself count out all the gadgets, do some percentage math, stagger backward into her seat ("Oh dear, maybe I shouldn't be _so_ theatrical with my actions..." she tutted), set to work on fixing gadgets, and quickly fall asleep on the worktable.

But then it happened. As she peered closely at the screens, Oona noticed a small... _something_ creep out from the shadows. It looked around a bit, then darted forward and somehow vaulted upward and onto the worktable, and made straight for the pile of gadgets.

"I _knew_ I couldn't repair gadgets in my sleep!" she said to herself, not quite sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. "But what _is_ that thing?"

Unfortunately, luck was not on her side. Before she could zoom in on any of the footage, all of the cameras went static. Too late Oona remembered that Night Shift cut power in certain areas they didn't need or use, such as security cameras in unused rooms like the Lab. _Darn, there goes that idea. Guess I'll have to go with Plan B…_

* * *

All the rest of that afternoon, Oona laid the bait. Instead of cleaning up her messes, like she normally did after inventing or fixing a gadget or imbibing mysterious substances on the side, she deliberately left them strewn about the Lab, letting her other scientists know that "it's okay, I'll deal with them later, just leave them be for now." Correctly guessing that this mysterious figure might try to do any work left over in the Lab after hours, Oona waited until all the Day Shift agents had cleared out and the Night Shift agents had begun to filter in, then sat at her normal counter and looked around expectantly. "Okay, sneaky shadowy whatever-you-are. Come on out! I'm ready to see who you are! At least, I think I'm ready...heh, I mean, if you were...a...if you were a sc…scary th...th...thing….may...be…"

Once again, Oona nodded off to sleep.

* * *

 _Thank goodness, I thought she'd never leave._

Once again, the figure crept out of the shadows and surveyed the surroundings. _My, my, Agent Oona left the Lab in a state today._ It grinned in excitement. _Guess I'll just have to assume the role of a dutiful Odd Squad agent once again…_

* * *

Oona snapped awake.

Something felt wrong.

She looked around. The fluorescent lights were on...Day Shift was beginning to filter in...her Lab was spotless as it always was in the morning…

The morning…spotless…

Oona gasped and then groaned as the realization sank in. _I can't believe it, I fell asleep! I fell asleep and I missed the—the, uh—whatever-it-is shadowy thing!_

To confirm her fears, Oona quickly got up and dashed over to the North Control Room before any Security agents could get to it and shoo her away, and once again brought up the footage from the thirty Lab cameras. Like before, there wasn't much to see before the cameras had been shut off, but sure enough, Oona watched as, after she nodded off to sleep against the work counter, the same shadowy figure crept out of hiding. This time it went to the center of the room, stood there for a bit, then made for the back closet before the cameras went static.

"Okay, so Plan A and Plan B are out," she mused. "Guess it's time to come up with a Plan C..."


	3. GE: Part 3

**A/N Just to clear a few things up for the few people who asked, "The Quarantined, the Wallflower, and the Party" was only a three-chapter story, so it's now finished and I won't be updating it anymore. However, I will be starting the final Contest-winning story next, called "O is for One of a Kind", so be on the lookout for that! :)**

 **Meanwhile, this story is now at the halfway mark—there will be three more chapters about the "Serv'd Up" part, and I'm super excited to start them after this. So enjoy the end of "The Gadgetmaker and the Elf"!**

Part 3

The sudden sound of loud circus ringtone music was so startling that Agent Oswald gasped and dropped the heavy moving box she was carrying squarely on her foot.

Her new boss, President of Scientists Oscar, didn't seem to notice as he sat down at his new office desk, unclipped his badge phone, and answered it. "Yello, heh…. Oh, hi Oona! How's it going running the Lab? You didn't let any experiments escape yet, did you? O-or set the peanut butter and powdered Blob too close together? You know they don't like to—"

As Oswald held her throbbing foot and tried not to make any noise, the Vice President of Scientists/secretary/Lab Assistant/companion (she didn't really have an official title) tried to inconspicuously listen in on Oscar's side of the conversation. "Wait, do what…? Keep you awake? I dunno, have you tried inventing one of those Rube Goldberg thingies to set off an alarm whenever your head hits the table or something…? Oh, it's for _spying_ on the Lab, okay. Yeah I s'pose that'll stand ou—wait, why are you spying on the—? No, I don't know anything about a, um, whatever you're trying to catch, heh. To be honest, that's _not very_ specific… Oh no no! No, there wasn't anything like that when I was there—not that _I_ can remember, anyhow… Right, you wanted advice, heh. Hmm..." Oscar looked over and, catching sight of Oswald, motioned her over. "Here, one moment—" Putting his hand over the receiver, he whispered to her loudly, "How should Oona keep herself awake while spying on the Lab overnight?"

Oswald raised an eyebrow, not quite sure she'd actually heard any of that ridiculousness right. _It's Oscar, for odd's sake, of_ _course_ _you heard that right!_ Shaking her brunette head, Oswald thought for a few seconds, then loudly whispered back, "What if she pretends to be a Night Shift agent?"

"But how would that work?"

Before she could respond, there was a muffled voice from Oscar's badge phone's receiver. "Um, just so you know, I can totally hear you guys."

Oscar held a finger up to Oswald and put the phone back up to his ear. "Heh heh, sorry about that, Oona...wait, what do you mean, you understand—?" Oscar listened in silence for a minute, then his eyes brightened and he nodded. "Ohh, gotcha. Yeah, that sounds like it might actually work, heh! Good luck, and thanks for calling! ...Yep, bye!"

Hanging up, Oscar turned back to Oswald and explained to her animatedly, "Oona's going to keep herself awake by pretending to be a Night Shift agent and mingling with the real ones to keep herself busy. She thinks it's mostly being by herself that makes her fall asleep, anyhow, and being around other agents will prevent that. Then, when she spots whatever odd activity she's looking for in the Lab, she can rush over and take it by surprise!"

Oswald tried not to roll her eyes. "Could've told you that myself, sir."

"Yes, that's all very good." Not quite paying attention, he clapped his hands together and stood up. "Right, now let's get these moving boxes unpacked! It's not like my new office is going to unpack itself, heh!"

* * *

 _Is it possible to fall asleep from boredom when you're standing up?_ Oona wondered, not for the first time. "Soooo, which do you like better, the Banana Room or the Potato Room, eh?" she prompted, nudging the Investigation agent she had been trying to strike up a conversation with for the better part of half an hour. But once again, the agent gave her a mere passing glance and turned back to her cross-stitching.

"That's not gonna work without the Talking Ball," a voice mumbled behind her.

Oona whirled around, thankful for someone else to finally talk to and keep her alert, and found a sleepy-eyed boy in a Management uniform clutching a black briefcase. "You're the Mr. O, right? What do you mean, Talking Ball?"

"We don't have it anymore," he shrugged. "Lost it when it got thrown up to the ceiling."

She glanced up to where he was pointing and sighed in exasperation. "Then why are you talking to me?"

Mr. O shrugged again. "You're from Day Shift, and I'm in charge here," he mumbled in reply, which was not really an answer. "I could ask you why you haven't gone home like you're supposed to."

Oona opened her mouth to relate the whole story, then thought better of it as her eyes caught a tiny flicker of movement near the Quarantine Chamber. _This is what I've been waiting for!_ "Can't say," she settled on for a response, beginning to scoot in that direction. "Important top-secret Lab business—that can only be done at night!"

She couldn't have known Mr. O was remembering that winter, when those two Day Shift agents he'd taken a liking to had tried to stay the night. And how this time, he didn't want to interfere with the affairs of another Day Shift agent—never mind if he'd never seen an actual Odd Squad scientist at work before. "Okay, suit yourself," he replied with another shrug, and ambled off to who-knows-where.

Meanwhile, a now wide-awake Oona nonchalantly made her way over to the hallway by the North Control Room, then dropped to her knees and quietly crept over to the newer part of the Lab, on the nearby eastern side of the Quarantine Chamber. Pressing her body against the front of the counter to hide herself, Oona went completely still and listened hard. At first there was silence, but then her ears caught a series of _rustles_ directly above her head, along with the unmistakable _sloshing_ sound of chemicals, cleaning fluid, and colored tapioca balls as their beakers were being moved around. _Whatever-it-is is putting them away,_ Oona thought triumphantly, _just like I left them out for whatever-it-is to do._ Slowly, ever so slowly, Oona peeked her head over the edge of the countertop.

And immediately forgot any concept of stealth. "AAAAAAAAH!" she screamed in shock.

"AAAAAAAAH!" came the near-simultaneous, equally-shocked reply.

In the background, several Night Shift agents were startled into whipping their heads in the direction of the Lab. However, as several seconds passed and nothing else sounded or jumped out, they slowly went back about their sleepy business.

Oblivious to the Night Shift, Oona, having fallen and scooted backward in her initial jolt, now gawked at the little girl gawking back at her from on top of the counter. Little, because the girl looked to be barely two inches tall.

 _Alrighty then_ , Oona thought, utterly at a loss for words. _Not what I was expecting. At all._

It was the tiny girl who recovered first. In a high-pitched yet surprisingly resounding voice, she breathed, "Y-you're...you're the new Lab Director, Oona."

At the mention of her name, Oona found her words. "Uh, yep! Howdy-doo!" she greeted uncertainly, scrambling to her feet and up to the counter. "So _you're_ the one who's been fixing gadgets and cleaning up messes in my Lab while I was asleep?"

The girl, who had a Japanese complexion, shoulder-length dark hair, and bright green eyes, beamed and nodded. "Did I do an okay job?"

Still recovering from the shock, Oona let out a surprised laugh. "An okay job? I'd never seen the Lab cleaner, or those gadgets working smoother! And you were so quiet I didn't even stir the last two nights, even when I tried to set yesterday's trap!"

She was rewarded with a laugh in return, a high-pitched tinkling sound Oona fell in love with. Spreading her arms, the girl said, "Looks like you caught me at last. And thank you, thank you! You have no idea how much that means to me!"

"Really?" Oona pulled up a nearby black swivel chair and sat down. "Why not?"

"Well..." The girl looked down shyly and scuffed her feet. "I grew up in one of the little cities in the back there," she began, motioning to the plastic curtain in the back, behind which were where the racks of miniature cities had been moved to ever since the Lab was expanded. "I never thought much about the outside world until last January, when all the cities had to be moved from another part of your headquarters after that battle with Odd Todd." Her green eyes sparkled. "I never knew the world outside my city and the other cities could be so...so _big!_ And so _amazing!_ I wanted to go out and explore it, but I..." her face fell, "well, I was scared of what might happen if someone saw me."

While listening to the girl's story, Oona had been looking at the silhouettes of the miniature cities behind the curtain. She remembered Oscar showing them to her once, casually mentioning that Odd Squad agents sometimes hung out with the little people inside them—but Oona herself had never done so. Now she started to feel a little guilty. _Has this girl never met any of us before? Is it because I never went to visit them?_

"So I decided to only go exploring at night," the girl continued, "when there weren't as many agents around and it would be safer for me." Puffing out her chest, she declared proudly, "It's been six months, and I've been almost everywhere in headquarters, from Ms. O's office to the fuzzy dice pool to the Blob Containment Facility!"

"That's impressive!" Oona marveled. "Especially for your size."

The girl smiled slyly and winked. "Oh, but you don't know. I can run super fast—"

To Oona's astonishment, the tiny girl disappeared into a blur that ran from one end of the counter to the other and back to the middle in less than two seconds.

"—and climb super high—"

Before Oona knew what was happening, the girl had launched herself onto the seam of the new Lab Director's lab coat and scrambled to the top of her head in just over three seconds. "How did you—"

"— _and,_ I'm super strong, too! I can lift up to 5,000% of my own weight!"

Vaulting off Oona's head and back onto the countertop as skillfully as a trapeze artist, the girl picked up one of the beakers filled with tapioca balls (a good five times her height and ten times her weight) and easily hefted it up onto her shoulder in no time at all. "Ta-da!"

Oona's jaw dropped. "How could you have been afraid of the outside world with _those_ skill sets?"

The girl pondered that for a moment. "Y'know, I'm actually not quite sure. Instinct?" She shrugged. "Everyone else in my little city is scared of the outside world, so I guess I thought I should be too."

Oona couldn't help but laugh again. "Definitely explains how you were able to fix all those gadgets in a single night!"

"Yup!" Setting the beaker down, the girl continued her story. "The night before, I'd snuck out early and saw the old Lab Director—Oscar, I think his name was?—and you putting your shoelace up on the bulletin board. Then the next day, I saw how much work you hadn't finished when you fell asleep, and I did 110% of it for you!" She laughed again. "I should've figured out the next night and this night were traps you'd set. I was just happy to help you out!"

Shaking her head in amazement, Oona forgot to say thank you. "What are you?" she said instead, a bemused smile tugging at her lips.

Unexpectedly, the girl's face fell. "Can I tell you a secret?" she said quietly.

Puzzled, Oona could only nod.

"It's just that...I wish I were a real Odd Squad agent like you! My little city doesn't have an Odd Squad of its own, and I'm a little—well, _little_ to be on your squad...and my real name doesn't start with O, either."

Oona opened her mouth to express her sympathy, then stopped. _She was such a good help around the Lab,_ she thought. _I'd hate to dash her dreams…_

An idea began to flicker in her mind. "Hey, tell ya what," she said, leaning down closer so they could be eye-to-eye. "Since I'm a scientist, I don't have a partner of my own. What if you wanted to be my secret partner that nobody knew about? I could sew you a tiny scientist uniform and hide you in one of my lab coat's pockets! Also, do you like oatmeal?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Then your agent name is Oatmeal!"

The girl scrunched up her nose a little. "Why Oatmeal?"

"Because it's never served in the cafeteria, no one has that name, and the mercury on Mercury is much too high!" Oona paused. "Wait no, that's Interplanet Janet..."

"Okay, sounds good to me!" the girl, henceforth christened Oatmeal, exclaimed, bouncing on her feet. "Oh, thank you, _thank you_ , Oona!" Hopping onto her face, Oatmeal hugged the scientist's nose.

Oona blushed a little. "D'oh, stop," she whispered. "That's what brand-new best-friend partners are for."

* * *

" _I'm not an expert on this stuff," Oona remarked to Otis, getting up from his desk chair. "I don't even have a partner. Or do I…? I don't. Or do I have a secret tiny partner in my lab coat…?" She opened the left side of her lab coat to show him, then put the fold back in place. "Nah, I don't."_

Or do I…? _Reaching a finger inside the other fold of her lab coat, Oona and Oatmeal high-fived._

 **A/N Few more announcements: Just a reminder to keep reading and reviewing my friend Agent0002's fanfic, "Full Circle". She could really use a bunch of support, and since it's tied so closely to my own stories, I would love it, too!**

 **And this brings up a new point: I know it can be a little confusing, as a reader, to keep track of which of your favorite fanfics are being updated, especially with this latest influx of a bunch of new stories muddling up the list even more. (No offense to these authors, it's just a fact of how the website works.) So I highly encourage you to click that little "FOLLOW" button next to your favorite stories or authors—like me or Agent0002, for instance. ;) #totallynotbraggingXD This will send you email notifications whenever the fanfic is updated, so you don't have to worry about keeping a lookout. So yes, please favorite, follow, review, and do all that other good stuff! We really appreciate it! :D**


	4. SU: Part 1

**A/N Technically I was supposed to wait for Dr. Pickle 22's approval before I posted this chapter, but since I've had this written for awhile yet kept you all waiting, and since Pickle's been MIA for some unknown reason, _and_ due to a recent - erm - news development that necessitates commentary, I've decided to go ahead and start the second half of this fanfic. Originally this was going to be three chapters, but I've decided to extend it to four chapters for multiple logistical reasons that I don't feel like explaining. I'll also let you know in the next chapter whether there've been any significant changes to _this_ chapter once Pickle is back and gets the chance to finally look this over.**

 **[THE REST OF THIS A/N HAS BEEN REDACTED BECAUSE THE AUTHOR FEELS BAD ABOUT HOW DRAMATICALLY DEPRESSING IT WAS]**

 ***deep breath***

 **Okay, enough speeches. I'll probably reiterate the entirety of this when the S2 finale airs, anyhow. Y'all came here for the chapter, so here it is. ;)**

* * *

 _SERV'D UP_

* * *

Part 1

"Hey there, Oksana! How's it going?"

With some effort, Oksana suppressed a groan. Setting the bowl she was drying on top of the stack of clean bowls, she turned to peer down her nose at Odd Squad's most chipper agent who'd just wandered into the break room. "Whaddya want?"

"Glad to hear it!" Olympia went on, and Oksana couldn't be sure if the girl had actually heard her response or just didn't care to be negative. "Can I ask what the lunch special is today? I know I'm a little late, but I was out on a case and just got back."

 _Great. And I just finished washing all these dishes._ "It's two-thirty in the afternoon," she deadpanned.

"I know! And boy, am I hungry after chasing Fladam all over town and getting flattened twice! Good thing Otis was there to help get me turned back, but he brought his lunch today and I forgot mine, so here I am!"

This time, Oksana didn't suppress her groan. "The lunch special _was_ spaghetti chili," she informed the rookie agent, folding her arms. "But I took all the leftovers back down to the kitchen."

Olympia's face fell ever so slightly, but she didn't waver. "That's okay, I can save you a trip and take the elevator down to the kitchens myself! Which floor is it, again?"

"The ninety-eighth—"

"Awesome possum, thanks!"

"—but my elevator's broken."

Already several steps out into the bullpen, Olympia froze and swiveled back around. "Broken?" she repeated, her chipper grin fading. "When? What happened?"

"Why should I care? Point is it's broken." Oksana shrugged. "I'd let you take my old climbing rope down. But only I have the key to get to it...and only I know how to climb it...so, you can't use it."

"Oh. Okay. Bummer." Olympia nodded, her auburn ponytail bobbing up and down. "Guess I can always order pizza from Debbie's." Once again she turned on her heel and headed back out into the bullpen.

And once again made an immediate about-face and rushed back into the break room. "Hang on, did you say _your_ elevator?"

Oksana narrowed her eyes slightly, but otherwise didn't flinch. "Yes."

There was a pause.

"Well, uh, what do you mean, your elevator?" Olympia eventually asked, when it became clear that Oksana wasn't going to elaborate without prompting.

She jerked her head slightly in the direction of the Hall of Doors. "The elevator out there. It's mine. I'm the reason we got it installed last December so all _you_ agents wouldn't have to use the stairs anymore and so _I_ could actually get down to my kitchens without using my climbing rope. Therefore it's mine. Not that that stops other agents like you from breaking it," she added in a mutter, curling her lip.

Olympia pushed her glasses into place and looked expectantly at Oksana.

Oksana stared her down, arms still folded.

Olympia stared back.

 _Why isn't she leaving?_ Oksana thought, narrowing her eyes even further.

Still, Olympia met her gaze and refused to back down.

 _Sigh._ "What else do you want?"

Olympia's stomach growled, but the girl ignored it. "Well, it sounds to me like there's a story to be told," she said, plopping herself down in the closest break room chair.

"What story?"

"Y'know, how you got the elevator!"

"And what makes you think I'll tell you?"

Oksana had hoped her intimidating response might shake Olympia off, but the latter girl was all too determined. Without breaking eye contact Olympia reached behind her and snapped her fingers twice. "Hey, Obby! O'Mary! How you two doin', girls?"

Surprised, Oksana glanced up to discover the two Maintenance workers in question were indeed passing by at that moment, tool belts crammed to bursting. "Sorry Olympia, can't talk now!" Obby called back. "Some agent got the elevator broken and now we have to fix it."

"Which you _really_ ought to understand by now how busy we'll be with that!" O'Mary added meaningfully.

"Oh, I do!" Olympia reassured them, without turning around. "In fact, I was just about to offer to fix it myself, and let you two get back to your _amazing_ everyday work in keeping HQ from self-destructing."

Obby and O'Mary exchanged glances. "Think she can do it, Obby?" O'Mary asked her partner, raising an eyebrow.

"If not, at least she's better prepared than she was when she and her partner decided to insult us last month." Obby winked. "I say let her give it her best shot."

"Deal!" Olympia held out both her arms behind her, and without hesitation the two Maintenance workers unclipped their heavy tool belts and deposited them into Olympia's outstretched hands. Waving at Oksana, they skipped off to get back to their regular duties.

Oksana watched them go for a bit, then looked back down at Olympia, whose gaze still hadn't moved in all that time. "What was that for?"

"I'll get the elevator fixed for you," she said with a smile, setting the tool belts on the floor, "as soon as you tell me the story of how you got it."

"And if I don't?"

"Then the elevator won't get fixed. And I'm pretty sure you don't want to have to explain to all the impatient agents waiting to use it _and_ Obby and O'Mary why I wasn't able to get around to it. Or have to use your climbing rope to prepare dinner and bring it up to the break room and cafeteria."

Though Oksana didn't actually care about the first reason, Olympia had a point with the second one. "Ugh, fine. It started when I got selected to compete on the annual Odd Squad game show _Serv'd Up_..."


	5. SU: Part 2

**A/N Whoops, missed the date by over a week (although I didn't miss today, June 20, which is the 1-year anniversary of Season 2's release!), but last Monday on June 12 was the 1-year anniversary for when I finished "Ships Ahoy!" Gosh I still can't believe that whole crazy adventure is over... Anyhow, to celebrate last week's momentous occasion, here's the next installment of "Serv'd Up", apologies for the wait because it's been slow going. Couple things, one is that I based the game show in here on the old YTV kid's game show _Cook'd_ , so a lot of the quotes and aspects of this story are borrowed from there. Second, if you haven't read my friend Agent0002's fanfic "Full Circle" yet, please go check that out because it's super good and it's a continuation of "Ships Ahoy" but with the Season 2 cast as well!**

Part 2

"SERVE—OR—GET—SERV'D UP! ARE YA GONNA GET—SERV'D UP!"

Amidst cheers and applause from the audience as the theme song faded, Odd Squad's most popular TV host, Agent Odair, ran out from a side entrance and high-fived everyone seated in the front row before jogging to the center of the studio to face the camera with his winning green eyes, spiked-up sandy curls, and flashy white teeth. With a wink he began his annual fast-paced speech.

"I'm Agent Odair, you're you, and welcome to the 2014 Odd Squad cooking competition and the greatest, I mean _greatest_ , game show of all time, _Serv'd Up!_ A game so simple even a Centigurp could understand it—" a remark prompting good-natured laughter from the crowd (most of whom probably remembered their first-day Centigurp test all too well) "—our greatest cooks from Odd Squad establishments around the world face their worst nightmares: either serve the best or get..."

On cue the audience yelled the rest, "SERV'D UP!"

Standing off to the side with the other three competitors waiting to be introduced, Oksana made a show of rolling her eyes. _Why on earth Ms. O would nominate me to endure this torture of a poorly-scripted game show, I have no idea._

"First up," Odair went on, "it's time to meet this year's competitors. First up from Precinct 31415, we have Agent Oenomaus of Thessaloniki, Greece!"

While Odair went on about Oenomaus's history on the squad (a story Oksana didn't care to hear), the olive-skinned boy standing two away from her darted out to the center and waved excitedly at the crowd, a stupid grin on his face. Oksana resisted the urge to facepalm.

"Next up from Precinct 27182 is Agent Ovinha of Manaus, Brazil!"

* * *

"OMG you got to meet Ovinha?!" Olympia squealed, hopping up from the break room chair. "I knew her from the Academy! Well, only for like a month before she graduated, but still—!"

"I didn't like her," Oksana cut her off.

Olympia faltered for a moment, then shrugged. "Eh, that doesn't mean much since you don't like most people, amiright?"

Oksana glared at her. "Just for that, I'm not finishing the story for you."

But all Olympia had to do was hold up the tool belt to remind her of the deal. "Fine," Oksana grudgingly gave in. "But only if we start walking towards the elevator so I know you'll keep your word."

"No problem!" Olympia chirped, leading the way out into the bull pen. "Now, please continue!"

 _Which I would've done anyhow if you hadn't so rudely interrupted me,_ Oksana thought. _Now where was I…?_

* * *

"Next up from Precinct 27182 is Agent Ovinha of Manaus, Brazil!"

The short girl with the dark crimped hair who'd been standing between Oenomaus and Oksana literally cart-wheeled her way to the center, ending with a back walkover just as Odair was finishing another introduction Oksana didn't care to hear. "Showoff," Oksana murmured, quashing any feelings of jealousy she might have over a fellow Odd Squad chef who apparently entertained her precinct's agents with acrobatics. "Didn't even bother to wear a hairnet."

"Third on our list is from Precinct 13579, Agent Oksana of Toronto, Canada!"

With a sigh she walked out to the center of the studio, as plain and as deadpan as could be, and the audience reaction to her flourish-less entrance was ever so slightly more subdued than before. Vaguely Oksana heard the host go on about her musical hobbies and her work history in both Investigation and Kitchen departments, as well as her Ukrainian origins and an abridged version of her fantastical Berlin Wall escape story. A few "oohs" could be heard from the audience, and Oksana allowed a hint of a smile to dance across her face.

"And our final competitor is from Precinct 01023, Agent Ondaatje of Colombo, Sri Lanka!"

The last boy, a cinnamon-skinned four-year-old with wide eyes, quickly ran to join the others and stood quietly with his head down throughout his own introduction. Oksana decided him to be tolerable.

As the last of the applause died down, Odair winked at the camera again and said, "Now before I introduce the judges, I'd like to take this moment to announce that there'll be a slight change in the way this year's competition is going to work."

There were some murmurs from the audience and from Oksana's fellow competitors. Oksana herself, who in the past hadn't considered _Serv'd Up_ worth her high standards for Odd Squad television watching, tried to imagine what sort of "slight change" there could possibly be. _Three rounds of cooking meals for the judges under a time limit, they give you feedback, and the cook eliminated from the round is serv'd up into a stockpot of 999-day-old porridge. How on earth can you change something that absurdly simple and fundamental?_

"You've now met all four of this year's top chefs, but what would happen if these chefs were suddenly given a _completely inexperienced_ sous chef to assist them?"

Oksana blinked. _What?_

A side panel in the studio wall slid up, and there stood four young Odd Squad Academy students, all of whom seemed to be a mix of shy, eager, and terrified.

"Oh-hoh, you heard me, folks," Odair went on slyly. "Chefs, these Academy students are going to be your Taste Buddies for the day. If you don't let them help you prepare each of your dishes, it doesn't matter how good your food is, you could still get—"

"SERV'D UP!" the audience finished, catching on.

 _An assistant?_ While the other three competitors nodded and shrugged, Oksana outwardly groaned. _I have to lower my bar of culinary excellence for the likes of an assistant?_ Wrapped up in her irritation, she almost didn't notice the little auburn-haired boy in the grey sweatshirt tugging on her apron. "Who are you?" she said, effectively concealing her startlement.

"I'm Oburly," he mumbled, suddenly interested in his dark navy sneakers. "The host guy put me here. So I'm just with you now."

Sure enough, Oksana looked up to realize Odair was partnering up the other three Academy students with her competitors. She looked back down at her new Taste Buddy. "What am I supposed to _do_ with you?" she muttered aloud, half to herself but half to intimidate her unwanted company.

Oburly flinched and looked away.

"And now," Odair was saying, "for the final item on our list before it's off to the kitchens with these four—excuse me, _eight_ agents!"

One of the other Taste buddies, a heavily-tanned little girl with silver cornrows standing next to Ondaatje, interrupted him. "We're not agents, we're _recruits_ , Mister Sparkle-Teeth!"

This only seemed to egg the host on. "Ooh, this one's got some _spice!_ Soon we'll see if she can put it to good use in her master chef's cooking!"

The girl rolled her eyes.

"Anyhow," Odair resumed his spiel, "it's now time to meet the judges!"

Next to where a side panel had slid away to reveal the four Academy students, a heavy orange curtain rose to reveal a panel of three judges, all of whom Oksana recognized. Seated on the far left orange stool was the Big O himself, flanked by two bodyguards holding his toy cars. Seated on the center stool was Agent Onion, head of the Journalism Department at the Big Office and author of the spoof webizine _The Agent Onion_ , and on the far right stool was seated—

"Orchid?"

The seven-year-old shrugged at Oksana's disbelief and smirked. "Broccoli is _not_ my friend, Sherman!" was all she would say.

At Orchid's cue, Onion jumped in with a grin and a, "My favorite flavor is dessert."

And finally the Big O chimed in with, "You're about to get _serv'd up!_ "

"That's right, you are!" Odair cut in, to much laughter and applause from the crowd. "The Big O himself, our favorite journalist Agent Onion, and Agent Orchid of Precinct 13579 like trying new foods, but they _really_ like telling you what they think. And if they don't think your first meal is up to par as _THE_ most important meal of the day—"

He held the microphone out to the audience, who all yelled, "BREAKFAST!"

"—then it's into the pot o' porridge with you. Chefs," he said, turning back to Oksana and the others (and the camera) with a disconcerting gleam in his eye, "it all starts in the pantry, and your time begins... _NOW!_ "

 _What did I let myself get into?_ was Oksana's last thought before all Hades' Kitchen broke loose.

 **A/N Two fun facts I forgot to mention: in the show _Cook'd_ , Michela Luci (the actress who plays Orchid) actually appeared as a recurring judge, which is why I chose to make Orchid a judge in "Serv'd Up". And if you don't know who Agent Onion is, they're my nonbinary OC from a parody fanfic I published on Wattpad called "The Agent Onion", which you should go check out if you have a Wattpad account!**


	6. SU: Part 3

Part 3

Oksana found herself sprinting for the pantry along with the other chefs, dimly aware of Oburly at her heels. With only two minutes to get all the ingredients, there was no time to stop and think. Competition or no competition, her perfectionist brain was in full kitchen mode. She grabbed a shopping cart and beelined straight for the bread shelves.

 _No one can top my French toast recipe_ , she assured herself, tossing a couple challah loaves in her cart. _Especially with my secret ingredient—_

"Can I get anything for you, Oksana?"

Oksana scowled. _Right, the boy._ "Get me a carton of eggs and a stick of unsalted butter," she barked, jabbing a finger behind her without meeting his eyes.

He didn't move. "Um, the eggs and butter are that way," he said, lifting a finger to point shyly in the opposite direction.

"Fine. Just _go get them!_ "

"Yes, ma'am!" Saluting, he scurried off—and promptly crashed into Agent Ovinha.

Oksana ignored the commotion, instead making her way to the spice corner to pick up a jar of cinnamon. Next she found a box of cornstarch and a bag of brown sugar in the baking aisle, and finally made her way to the refrigerators towards the back.

"THIRTY SECONDS!" yelled Odair.

Opening the door, she grabbed a jug of milk and, after checking to make sure no one was looking, a carton of orange juice. _Just in case someone tries to steal the secret ingredient from my recipe,_ she thought as she concealed the carton behind the milk jug and the loaf of bread in the cart. That done, she raced towards the front, scanning the pantry for her Taste Buddy as she went.

"TEN SECONDS!"

The audience began shouting out a countdown just as Oksana caught sight of Oburly, egg carton and butter stick in his arms, dashing towards her. He wasn't going to make it to the cart in time. "Oksana, catch!" he hollered, and hurled his groceries at her.

 _Oh, great._

She caught the butter. She missed the eggs.

 _Splunch!_ went the carton in a puddle of yolk and eggshell fragments, right as the audience yelled, " _ZERO!_ "

As if to rub in the loss, Odair winced. "Ooh, and time is up! Looks like Agent Oksana will have to do without her eggs-cruciating loss for _this_ challenge."

A mix of laughter and sympathetic groaning rippled through the crowd. Deliberately ignoring it and the triumphant looks from her competitors, Oksana leaned over and whispered to Oburly, "I knew you were gonna do that, so I got cornstarch to make an eggless French toast. Shouldn't be too much trouble. That is," she added, her tone growing menacing, " _if_ you don't screw up anything else."

She watched with satisfaction as he gulped. "Got it."

* * *

Next up was the 15-minute cooking period. Oksana had been a little worried as to how she'd be able to finish her French toast, which normally took half an hour to bake, during that time, but was delighted to discover the oven at her workstation used time-travel technology—meaning that everything she put in there would finish baking in only five seconds. It also eliminated one possibility for screwing up the recipe.

But as it turned out, Oksana had underestimated Oburly's ability to in fact screw everything up.

"If it were up to me," she commented as she laid out the ingredients on her workstation's countertop, "I wouldn't risk letting you meddle with my culinary artistry. But rules are rules, and I'm not about to get disqualified for a rule as stupid as that one."

Oburly made no reply. Oksana had to admit she liked that about him.

"So first, I need you to mix these ingredients together—" she went on, setting aside the milk, orange juice, and cornstarch. "Half a cup of milk, half a cup of orange juice, and a tablespoon of cornstarch. Then measure out three-fourths cup of brown sugar—" she slid the bag over with the rest, along with a mixing bowl, whisk, and the necessary measuring equipment "—and give that to me. Got all that?"

He nodded.

"Good. I'm gonna get everything else ready."

Leaving Oburly to his measuring and mixing, Oksana set a skillet on the stove and unwrapped the stick of— _Salted butter?_ Bewildered, she shot a glance at the boy. _I definitely told him to get_ _unsalted_ _...never mind, it'll have to do._ With a sigh she tossed the butter into the pan and began stirring it around to melt it.

Which was when she felt her eyes and mind wander. There were four workstations in the kitchen for each competitor, two on her left and one on her right. Oenomaus was at the far one, so she couldn't see what he and his Taste Buddy were doing, but Ovinha was right next to her. Oksana scowled as she watched the acrobatic chef leap around the workstation, juggling oats and eggs with her own Taste Buddy, clearly in the process of making baked oatmeal. The dish itself would easily wither next to the French toast, but the fun-loving image Ovinha was crafting might be enough to move her to the next round. Audience reactions to her acrobatics and acclaiming commentary from Odair (which she was trying her best not to listen to) sure seemed to indicate that as a possibility. Hopefully the oatmeal would be plain enough to cancel all of Ovinha's efforts out.

With a cursory glance at the half-melted butter, Oksana swiveled her head to peer in the other direction, over Oburly's head. Ondaatje seemed to be making a vegetarian quiche, as his countertop was littered with spinach leaves, bell peppers, mushrooms, carrots, and practically every other vegetable imaginable. He and his Taste Buddy, the girl with the silver cornrows who'd yelled at Odair earlier, had set up an efficient system where he chopped veggies and slid them into the egg mixture that she was whisking. A pie crust sat waiting to be filled on the far end. Ondaatje was too dutifully wrapped up in his chopping, but the Taste Buddy girl looked up and caught Oksana's eye. Smirking, she hid one hand behind her back and used it to point at Oksana, then make a thumbs-down sign.

Oksana rolled her eyes and shrugged off the gesture, but it got on her nerves more than she wanted to admit. Breaking eye contact (something she would normally never be the first to do herself), she looked back at the butter and noticed it was almost completely melted. "Brown sugar ready?" she snapped, unsettled.

Oburly slid the measuring cup over and she emptied it into the skillet, more than a little distracted. _It's okay, everything's okay. Orchid's not a fan of vegetables, maybe the quiche'll be their downfall for this round. Just gotta focus...gotta focus…_

"FIVE MINUTES!"

Oksana started. Only a third of their time left, how had the rest gone by so quickly? "We gotta move," she ordered, pouring the contents of the skillet— _That's odd, it shouldn't be so clumpy_ —into a white porcelain baking dish she'd laid out earlier. "How's the batter coming along?"

"I finished mixing it," he mumbled, sliding the bowl over to her, "but it looks funny."

 _Uh-oh._ Peering into the bowl, Oksana's eyebrows shot up and her lip curled in shock.

It was…bubbling. And hissing. And it smelled downright _awful_. Like rotten orange peels and spoiled cheese curds. "What did you _do?!_ "

"I...I...mixed them…?"

Suddenly a memory from almost ten years ago came to mind. Oksana had been at home after work and bored out of her mind one evening, so she found herself flipping through TV channels and settling on PBS Kids. It had been _Cyberchase_ on at the time, some episode about making a potion to rescue some guy's dad. Oksana remembered scoffing at the characters' inability to mix the ingredients right— _Aren't these guys supposed to be, like, honorary Odd Squad agents or something?_ —but maybe it wasn't as stupid of a mistake to make as she'd thought. Or maybe her kitchen assistant was just that stupid.

She sighed. "Did you remember to level off all the ingredients with a knife when you measured them?"

Oburly gave her a blank look.

Narrowing her eyes, Oksana grabbed the cornstarch box and slammed it down on the counter between them, all but shoved the tablespoon into the box, and brought it out piled way too high with starch. "Does _this_ look like exactly one tablespoon to you?"

Across from the kitchen, Odair let out a low whistle. "Looks like things are steaming up a bit for Agent Oksana and her Taste Buddy," he remarked.

Oksana ignored him. " _Does_ it?" she repeated, louder.

Oburly withered under her murderous gaze. "N-no…?"

"That's right. So you do this:" Grabbing a knife, she slid it across the top of the tablespoon, and all the excess starch fell to the floor in a billowing cloud. That done, she jammed the tablespoon back in the cornstarch box and brought it back out filled only halfway. "What about this?"

"It's, um, not full enough," he stammered.

"Exactly. So you put more in, _then_ scrape off all the excess." She let go of the tablespoon and allowed it to clatter and spill more starch on the floor, then leaned forward until their noses were nearly touching. "Did you so carelessly 'measure' all of those ingredients?"

He bit his lip. "Yes."

"THREE MINUTES!"

 _No wonder the cinnamon mixture looked so lumpy,_ she realized, glancing at the baking dish. _He must've measured out way more than three-fourths of a cup._ Her concerned gaze shifted to the ugly excuse for batter. _And if I'm not mistaken, which I rarely am, he must've put in too little milk, too much orange juice, and_ _way_ _too much starch._

Oksana sighed and stood back up, much to Oburly's visible relief. "Whatever. There's no time to start over, we'll just have use what we've got. I've been in the mood for 999-day-old porridge, anyhow."

"Really?"

She gave him a dark look.

"Oh. Sarcasm. Got it."

Satisfied, Oksana turned back to the counter and grabbed the loaf of bread. "Help me get these slices in the pan. We still need to cover them all in batter and get it in the oven."

 _I can only hope someone else's dish is worse than mine…_

* * *

"Was there?"

Oksana blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, was there a dish that was worse than yours?" Olympia repeated, reaching above her head with a crowbar to pry off a maintenance panel inside the elevator.

"I'm getting there," Oksana replied tersely. "When I baked the French toast, it ended up morphing into what my Taste Buddy called a 'spongy mush', but all I had to do was chop it up and add some more milk, and it made a decent bread pudding."

"Ooh! Was it any good, have I tried it before?"

Oksana hid a wince. It hadn't been, actually, not by _her_ standards of excellence. She remembered comparing it against Ondaatje's veggie quiche, Ovinha's baked oatmeal, and Oenomaus's berry-and-ricotta crepes and thinking, _There's no way this'll get me past the first round, thanks to Oburly's incompetence._ Still, she'd held out hope that the veggies in the quiche, the blandness of the oatmeal, and any unfamiliarity with crepes ("I don't even know what a crepe is! Why am I supposed to like it?" Orchid had remarked to Odair) might be enough to give her bread pudding an edge.

Not that Olympia needed to know any of that. So Oksana merely shot her a look and quipped, "What do you expect?"

Olympia pursed her lips and went back to her (physical, not verbal) prying. "I'll take that as a yes, then. Still, I hope you make it again so I can try the winning—"

Another look.

"Right, sorry. So who got eliminated?"

Oksana smirked. "Your Academy friend, Ovinha. The judges and the audience liked her acrobatics, but the oatmeal didn't match up to expectations. And good riddance to her, I wasn't sorry to see the trapeze artist and her Taste Buddy soar through the air into that smelly old porridge."

Yet she recalled clear as day how overwhelming that feeling of relief had been. Luck had been with them, yes, but it shouldn't have needed to be. And she'd realized at that moment she was going to have to redouble her efforts _and_ keep a better eye on her incompetent assistant if she was going to have any certainty of winning this competition…

 **A/N Just one more part to go! :)**


End file.
